The Sincerest Form of Flattery
by deangirl1
Summary: Tag for 6.22 so spoilers to there. How the season might start... a possible explanation for what Cas did...


**Disclaimer:** This is a transformative work of fiction based on the original creation by E. Kripke. All for fun, not for profit. All hail our glorious leader!

**A/N:** Spoilers for 6.22. This bridges into 7.01, but as far as I know, contains no spoilers for it. It's pure speculation. Half of this was written at least a month ago (first half – long before any promos or clips).

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><p>"I am your new God. Profess your love for me or I shall destroy you."<p>

Cas' gaze fell on Dean first.

Dean realized he was gaping like the proverbial fish out of water, but he just couldn't quite process what Cas had said. At the same time, he knew he had to say something, and say it fast.

"I'm waiting," Cas prompted, his eyes tightening slightly, but not wavering from Dean.

"Of course, we love you Cas," Sam's voice came to his brother's rescue.

"Yeah, course we do," Bobby echoed.

Cas' eyes never left Dean's. Dean was waiting for that easy connection they'd always had. He vainly hoped that Cas had suddenly developed a sense of humour. He remembered the look in Cas' eyes when he'd asked Cas if he was God right after Sam had jumped into the pit. Cas had been so flattered, so humble, so much his friend. This Cas was implacable and arrogant. And what frightened Dean even more, this Cas did not seem entirely sane.

"I'm waiting, Dean."

"Yes," it came out on a breath.

"Yes, what?" and still Cas' eyes bored into his.

"I love you."

"Is that all?"

"What more do you want?"

"Your obedience and your loyalty. The one you have never given me, and the other you foolishly withdrew."

"Sure, Cas." Dean tried to smile, but it didn't really reach his eyes, and he couldn't entirely mask the fear that had crept into his voice.

"Why should I believe you are sincere?" Cas seemed to have forgotten that Sam and Bobby were still in the room with them.

"It would be stupid, even for me, to try to lie to God, wouldn't it?"

"Yes. Very foolish. More foolish than you could imagine."

Dean swallowed. He was at a loss as to how to get through to Cas.

"What are you going to do now, Cas?"

"I told you. I must punish all those who opposed me." Cas didn't look away from Dean, but suddenly, it was if he was looking somewhere else entirely. He smiled again – that new cold as ice smile that Dean was beginning to hate already.

Dean held his breath, waiting for Cas to re-focus on them, waiting to see what exactly Cas meant by that.

Sam, in the meantime, brought a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes together and looking for all the world like he used to when he still got visions.

"Um. This might not be the best time to mention it," Dean tried to get Cas' attention, "but you did promise to fix Sam," Dean ducked his head, looking up at Cas.

Cas turned slowly, fixing his gaze on Sam.

"It's ok..." Sam started, lowering his hand.

"He is still alive. Considering that he just attempted to kill me, I think I'm being very generous."

Dean and Sam both paled. Bobby caught Dean's eye as he leaned against crushed metal table.

"Well, what about Bobby? He just got slammed down the stairs..."

"You were _all_ working against me." Cas swung back to stare at Dean.

"We were _all_ trying to stop Raphael," Dean pointed out.

"You were all working against me," Cas repeated, his voice becoming a growl.

"Please Cas, punish me, but help them," Dean pleaded.

"Consider yourselves lucky that I am sparing you. Giving you a chance to prove yourselves worthy. I have more pressing business."

And then he was gone. No flapping of wings. Just. Gone.

For a moment, they all just looked at each other, still too shell-shocked to say anything.

"Sam!" Dean and Bobby said at the same time.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"How'd you get here, boy?" Bobby asked at the same time.

"It's a long story... I'm... I'm not sure yet, how I am. It's a lot to process..." Sam's hand went back to his head, his fingers massaging his temple as he squinted his eyes shut. He swayed a little where he stood, and Dean went to move forward to steady him.

Dean gasped as suddenly without the life or death threat of Cas to deal with, all of the pain in his body slammed into him at once. Every part of his body seemed to be screaming at once, stealing the air from his lungs. His head was pounding, blurred vision making him nauseous thanks to being inside the Impala as it was flung on its roof and then being flung into a wall and onto a table from a twelve foot drop. Dean knew he had broken ribs, he just wasn't sure how many. His back and shoulders were killing him... and it was suddenly really, really hard to breathe...

"Idjits," Bobby muttered, hobbling forward, unsure of which brother to go to first. Dean being the likeliest to fall down, Bobby went to him first.

"Let's all just sit down for a second, okay," Bobby said quietly taking the elder Winchester by the elbow and guiding him toward the stairs, easing him down on one.

"Sam? You with me?" Bobby glanced back over his shoulder.

"Yeah... Yeah, Bobby. I'm ok. It just comes in flashes... so much to try to process..." Sam shook his head.

"Sam," Dean wheezed, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. "What happened? Do you... do you... remember?"

"Yeah, Dean. All of it. Well. Not all of it, yet..." Sam's voice was quiet but steady.

"How bad is it?"

"Bad enough. But I can beat it... it's just memories, right?" Sam tried to smile.

"It's more than just memories though, isn't it?" Dean's eyes studied his brother, seeing the pinched features, the pain that was obvious to him.

"Ok, ladies," Bobby broke the moment. "Teatime's over. I suggest we get the hell out of here before someone takes objection to our being here..."

"Bobby, are you ok?" Dean squinted up at him.

"I'm better than you are," Bobby grunted, stiffly but gently levering Dean up again and motioning for Sam to come and steady his brother from the other side.

As soon as Sam and Bobby's arms came around behind Dean, he hissed and arched away.

"What the..." Bobby and Sam exchanged glances before refocusing on Dean's back.

"Crap, Dean!" Sam burst out first.

Glass stuck out of several rips in Dean's jacket and other tears were tinged with blood. Both Bobby and Sam glanced back at the table Dean had landed on... the table strewn with broken glass...

"Bad?" Dean asked. It was hard to actually distinguish one pain from the other, but he was aware of stinging on top of bruising and that was rarely good.

"You might have mentioned the glass stuck in your back," Bobby pointed out.

"If I'd known about it, I might have," Dean shot back.

"Take it out here?" Sam raised an eyebrow at Bobby.

"Better leave it for now. No telling how big some of those pieces are," Bobby reasoned.

"Do I get a say?"

"No." Bobby and Sam answered in unison, turning back to the matter at hand.

All three looked up the stairs with distaste.

"Um, guys?"

"Sam?" Dean and Bobby both turned to the taller hunter.

"Why don't we go out the back way I came in? No stairs," Sam suggested.

"Now you're talkin'," Bobby grinned.

By the time they made it back out of the mansion, Dean was barely conscious and Bobby and Sam were using each other to stay upright.

"How'd you get here, Sam?" Bobby huffed.

"Borrowed one of your cars," Sam explained.

"Your brother's gonna kill us, but we've got to get him and you safe, and I'll come back for the Impala."

"Nnno," Dean growled.

"You gonna right her boy?" Bobby growled right back. "From where I'm standing, you ain't even able to right yourself."

"C-n too," Dean breathed out, struggling feebly to break away from the other two.

"Dean! Cut it out," Sam admonished. "Bobby's right. We've got to get out of here. You're hurt. We'll get the damn car... but after."

"Not ... fair... two...'gainst...one," Dean slurred.

Bobby drove for home as quickly as he dared, shooting frequent glances at Sam beside him and Dean in the back seat. Sam seemed to be in and out of awareness, not unconscious, just not _there_. He didn't seem to be physically hurt. Dean, on the other hand, was a mess. They'd tried to keep him awake at first because of the concussion, but it seemed more of a mercy to let him sleep because of the pain of his various injuries. They'd placed him on his side, in the recovery position, so his back wasn't touching anything. They didn't want the glass embedded in his back going in further or being disturbed to cause him more pain. Bobby didn't like where the boy's head was at either.

"Sam?" Bobby glance sideways at the younger Winchester. His eyes were open but his lips were moving and he seemed to be looking at something other than the dark landscape the car was moving through.

"Sam!" Bobby reached over and slapped his arm lightly almost causing the boy to leap through the roof. The bleat of surprise he let out surprised and embarrassed both of them.

"What? Sorry...sorry... so hard...to focus...Sorry, Bobby." Anguished eyes turned to him.

"Try waking that stubborn brother of yours, will ya?" Bobby tried to keep the worry for both young men out of his voice and failed miserably.

"Sure, sure thing, Bobby." Sam turned and reached into the back seat, hesitating as he reached out a hand to gently shake his brother. It was hard to pick a spot that wouldn't cause Dean more pain. Finally, he settled on resting a palm on his head.

"Dean? Wake up a minute will you? C'mon, don't be a stubborn jerk," Sam prodded. Bobby was encouraged that his voice strengthened and he sounded more like himself with the task at hand to focus on.

Sam lightly patted his brother's cheek and was rewarded with the flutter of eyelids. A groan escaped parched lips before Dean could stop it. Slits of muddy hazel looked blearily over the seat back.

"Hey, bro – how're doing?" Sam asked gently.

Dean licked his lips, eyes roving a bit but not really focused. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mental inventory ran straight into the physical results of their evening.

"Fine. Okay," Dean pushed out, coughing weakly and grimacing as it set off sparks of pain throughout his body. He swallowed convulsively a few times but seemed to gain control.

Sam's hand slid down from his head to his shoulder to help steady him.

"Sure you are. Do you remember what happened?"

Dean grunted, closing his eyes.

"Dean," Sam prodded. It wasn't an idle question, but a necessary check and Dean knew it. He cleared his throat again.

"Yeah," came out in the familiar growl, but then his voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I let Cas down. Poor bastard. What was he thinking? That's not him talking... Cas would never... Jesus. God?" Dean's breathing started speeding up.

"Hey, easy Dean. This isn't your fault! We did everything we could. It's not your fault he kept you in the dark. Just take it easy. We can't fix this now... look. Just go back to sleep for now. We'll figure it out when we get you patched up. When we get back to Bobby's," Sam tried to soothe his brother. He wasn't surprised that Dean's reaction had turned inward.

Dean's exhaustion, luckily pulled him back under before he could get himself worked up. Days and weeks of chasing Eve and then Cas and the vigil he'd been sitting over his brother now combined with his injuries to send him back to unconsciousness.

Without the distraction and focus his brother provided, Sam once again seemed to fall into some kind of trance.

Bobby sighed and kept driving for home.

"Boys? We're here," Bobby said wearily as he put the car in park as close to the door as he could get. He waited for Sam to come back from wherever he was. Bobby was pretty sure he knew where and was completely sure he didn't really want to know.

Dean grunted from the back seat as Sam inhaled sharply in the front. Bobby shook his head. Dean would always come when called – especially when it was Bobby or Sam doing the asking, when it was family – regardless of what the cost might be to him.

"Lay still, Dean," Bobby directed. "We'll help you out, right Sam?" He wanted to give Sam something to focus on – that seemed to be the only thing helping at this point. It's probably how Sam had managed to keep it together long enough to come after them.

"Right," Sam visibly shook himself and Bobby was relieved to see at least half his directions being followed.

Dean meanwhile was struggling to push himself up – _big surprise there_, Bobby thought, _stubborn idjit_.

Sam pulled himself out of the passenger side and opened the back door to start easing Dean out. Dean was muttering a string of what Bobby assumed were colourful and anatomically incorrect curses. He made it as quickly around the car as his own bruised and now stiffened body would allow him.

Dean had grown visibly paler, bordering on grey, and he was squinting in even the meagre light cast in the yard. As they eased him out of the car, he began swallowing convulsively. He didn't make it halfway to the door before he was heaving helplessly. By the time he was finished, he was sweating profusely and shaking. His color was even worse.

Bobby glanced at Sam over Dean's head and exchanged worried glances. Dean was able to support even less of his own weight the rest of the way into the house. They deposited him as gently as possible on the couch, and he lay on his side with a groan.

"So, concussion for sure and broken ribs and glass stuck in you. Anything else I need to know about?" Sam's eyebrows knit together as he looked down at his brother. Dean squinted one eye open at him.

"Think I might have sprained my wrist. But it's mostly just bruises. Stop fussing. What's going on with you?"

"It's just..." Sam's eyes became distant. "I'm really here, right?"

Sam's voice sounded lost and the note of despair had Dean struggling into a sitting position, ignoring how the world tilted and his stomach dropped. He grabbed his brother's wrist.

"Yeah, Sammy," he said urgently, trying to ground him, "you're right here with me. You're safe. Bobby and I are real, and so are you. You're out, man, and you're never going back."

Sam shook his head. "Okay. I'm okay. It's just... it feels like... I don't know. Like I'm slipping away. Or you are. Or I'm not here. It's like a dream... I'm not explaining it very well."

"It's okay, Sammy. We'll figure it out. And I _do_ understand. Really. If anyone can, _I _can." Dean closed his eyes. He remembered his first flashes of remembering Hell. It was completely disorienting. He swallowed hard. Damn it. Those memories did not mix well with a concussion.

His eyes flew open again as his mouth flooded with saliva, and luckily, Bobby was there with a bucket just in time.

Dean groaned as he heaved and spit. Puking did not go well with broken ribs. The heaving sent waves of pain throughout his torso and only served to increase the pounding in his head. He knew from experience that he'd never be able to keep any pain meds down for at least a few hours yet. It was gonna be a long night.

They were able to ease his jacket and flannel off without disturbing much of the embedded glass. Luckily, both layers had provided some protection from the glass and cushioning for the fall. Some of the glass came away with the shirts as it wasn't embedded very deeply. For some of the bigger pieces, Sam cut the fabric away first. Then they cut off Dean's t-shirt to really get a look at the damage. Again, Dean was lucky that his ribs weren't out of alignment even though several were cracked and a couple almost definitely broken. The bruising was going to be spectacular when it finished darkening. There were only a handful of deeply embedded shards and only two wounds that actually needed a stitch or two to close.

Sam worked as quickly as possible, cleansing, closing, applying antibiotic cream, but the damage was widespread across Dean's broad back, and by the time Sam was finished, Dean had thrown up twice more and was swaying with fatigue.

"Take it easy, Dean. I'm done. Let's just get you lying down again," Sam soothed as he eased him back onto the couch on his side.

Bobby returned from the kitchen with hot coffee for himself and Sam after emptying the bowl of soapy, bloody water that Sam had used on his brother.

"You should both get some sleep too," Bobby said, handing the mug to Sam.

Sam just shivered.

"Yeah. No sweet dreams for any of us, I guess," Bobby muttered, settling himself behind his desk and adding a healthy swig of Irish to his coffee.

It was several hours later that they suddenly found Crowley in their midst. Bobby jerked awake at Dean's growled, "Crowley."

Sam merely looked bewildered as he tried to collect his thoughts and process what was happening.

"You've got some nerve for showing your face here," Bobby's voice was low and lethal as he slowly rose to his feet.

"We're on the same team here," Crowley placated holding up both hands.

"You're never on any "team" but your own you slimey sonuvabitch," Dean ground out, painfully forcing himself into a sitting position. No way he was going let himself be that vulnerable in front of their enemies.

"Yes, well... as that may be, at this juncture, even you lot must see that we need each other."

"How's that?" Bobby squinted at the demon.

"I've got the firepower you're going to need to take Cas down, and you've got some clue as to what the crazy God-complexed idiot is going to do next," Crowley explained.

"First off, if you've got the firepower to take Cas down, why don't you just do it and why do you look like you just got your ass handed to you?" Bobby demanded.

"I'm a bit... _constrained_ from _openly_ walking about in Hell at the moment, but I can call my grunts to me. I didn't get to where I am by not being resourceful."

"Seems to me 'where you are' is in my living room with your hat in your hand," Bobby pointed out.

"And what makes you think we have any idea what Cas is going to do next?" Dean demanded. "In case you missed it, sucking up all of purgatory completely scrambled the poor bastard."

Crowley stared at Dean. "You really have no clue, do you?"

"Clue about what? You'd better start talking and convince us why we shouldn't just shoot you where you stand. We might not know all the ins and outs just yet, but I'd bet good hard cash and a hell of a lot of it, that you are behind everything that's gone down, cuz every time we lift a steaming pile of shit, you seem to be standing under it," Dean scowled up at the demon.

Crowley shook his head, a look of incredulity on his face.

"Talk," Sam finally spoke. He held the Colt pointed at Crowley, his hand shaking. He'd managed to keep himself together while the others were snapping at each other and not paying attention to him to get the gun.

"Whoa! Easy there moose," Crowley raised his hands again, slowly backing away his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. "Let's put that down now, shall we? Or at least hand the gun off to someone who's completely in this reality."

"He's fine!" Dean snapped. "You were just about to tell us why you think we have any clue what Cas has planned. He's been on _your_ team for the last year and a half after all – not ours."

"You really are clueless, aren't you," Crowley shook his head. "Who do you think Cas models himself after?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, shrugging and wincing. Sam, for his part, was barely following the conversation, using all of his concentration to keep the gun trained on Crowley. Bobby was also looking at the demon blankly.

"_**You**_, you moron!" Crowley finally burst out.

"What? You're an idiot. Of course he doesn't," Dean sputtered.

Bobby just looked thoughtful.

"You have no idea how annoying it was watching him make a decision! You could practically hear the wheels turning and see the smoke coming out of his ears... '_what would Dean do?_'" Crowley said the last in a falsetto voice.

"You're crazy too! You sure you didn't slurp up some purgatory along the way too?" Dean shook his head at the demon, one hand snaking around to hold his throbbing torso. All the shouting and conversation wasn't helping his aching head or body.

"Think about everything he's done, you moron. He was almost at the breaking point when I went to him. He was hovering over you, watching you in your happy little white picket life. He wanted you to be happy. He saw how miserable you were and yet you hadn't contacted him. You'd let him go off and go back to heaven. He didn't want to drag you back into the fight, figuring you'd 'earned' your rest. He was ripe for the picking because he was desperate and didn't think he had anywhere to turn."

"He _should_ have come to me, _talked _to me, and he would have if you hadn't interfered!" Dean growled.

"No. He wouldn't have. He would have died trying to stop Raphael. He almost did a couple of times. But he just kept putting himself out there, sacrificing bits and pieces of himself, keeping you in the dark, to protect you. Because _you _taught him how to be a self-sacrificing moron," Crowley insisted.

Dean just gaped at him.

"It does make a bit of sense," Bobby allowed.

"What? Bobby! You can't agree with this scumbag!" Dean rounded on the older hunter.

"Oh, no doubt there's more to it, but you and Cas _are_ close. He _does_ look to you..." Bobby trailed off, suddenly realizing what this could be doing to Dean. He watched helplessly as that knowledge finally sank home in Dean. It was if the weight of that responsibility had physically settled on the younger man's shoulders. He slumped a little more where he sat and what little color he'd managed to recover drained out of his face.

"Dean? You okay?" Bobby moved around the desk to grasp his shoulder. "You need the bucket again?"

Dean raised a shaking hand and ran it down his face.

"No," was the quiet response.

For once, Crowley kept his mouth shut.

"Sam, why don't you give me that gun now," Bobby said gently, turning to the younger Winchester who was still using all of his concentration to keep the Colt trained on the demon. He hadn't really been able to follow the conversation. Bobby also wanted to give Dean a minute to collect himself.

"Yeah, sure Bobby," Sam released the gun and slumped back in his seat.

Dean's head was spinning. Was it really possible that Cas had modelled his behaviour after what he thought Dean would do? Was it possible Cas hadn't contacted him because he was trying to protect him? Trying to give him a little peace and happiness? If he'd been in Cas' shoes would he have made those same decisions? When Dad had gone missing, he'd gone to get Sam – just as Cas had sought his help in finding God. When Sam had died, he'd given his soul to get him back. He'd tried to keep Sam from looking for a way out to keep him safe. He'd refused to hurt innocent people to keep himself safe time after time. But that was _him_. He was just a meaningless human. True, he'd been tagged as Michael's vessel, but in the end, they'd found someone else to do it, so he wasn't so special after all. Dean wanted Crowley to be wrong, because if he wasn't, all of this was squarely on Dean. Cas' shortcomings and mistakes were nothing but a mirror on his own. Dean knew he should have been paying more attention to what was going on with Cas – he should have made sure that things were fine in Heaven. He was responsible for destroying Cas. Destroying his friend. And that was just one more reason he was a shitty role model.

"Dean?" Bobby squeezed his shoulder again.

"There is some urgency to this problem, after all," Crowley again inserted himself in the conversation.

"No," Dean said flatly. "We've got some time. He said he was going to Heaven to punish those who'd stood against him. He'll do that first." Dean couldn't help but think of his time in Hell. Those last 10 years. How he'd taken time to exact some of his own revenge. How had Crowley really been different than Alastair?

"You sure?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"Well, no time like the present to get started on our own plans then," Crowley rubbed his hands together, smirking in self-satisfaction.

"No one said you were included in any of our plans," Dean glowered at the demon.

"Armies of hell and all that," Crowley pointed out. "You need me, and I need you. Neither of us have to be happy about it."

"And neither of us are," Bobby stepped in. "Bugger off for 24 hours. See what your 'armies of hell' can find out and then come back."

Crowley took in the three battered hunters.

"Fine," he finally agreed, rolling his eyes. "Good help..." and he disappeared half-way through his final comment.

Dean immediately slumped sideways, eyes sliding shut. He hurt everywhere, including his very soul now. He knew he'd let his friend down, but he'd had no idea how badly.

"Dean?" Bobby interrupted his slide into unconsciousness. "Crowley might have a point about Cas trying to do what you would do, but he lost you in the translation. You would never have done what he did. If he'd kept us in the loop, you would have told him that."

"Would I have, Bobby? Cuz I'm not so sure. Seems like I haven't been much help to anybody who gets close to me. Fact is, seems like I haven't been much help to anyone in the grander scheme of things. I started the Apocalypse, I let my brother go to Hell, I left you without your soul for too long, I got my dad killed, I screwed Lisa and Ben's life to hell, and I let down the only real friend I ever had..." Dean turned his head as far away from Bobby as he could.

"Boy, that better just be the concussion talking, because you're talking shit outta your ass now. Go to sleep Dean. You'll feel better about all of this when you aren't in pain and exhausted." Bobby drew a blanket up over Dean's now shivering form. He knew the pain went far deeper than the physical hurts, and he was at a loss as to how he was going to help with that.

"Sam? Why don't you turn in too, boy?" Bobby turned to the younger Winchester.

"Uh... I think I need to stay here, Bobby," Sam turned confused eyes on his brother.

"Sure, Sam. I'll get the sleeping bag," Bobby knew Sam needed Dean to keep himself grounded to reality. They didn't need Sam losing it even more.

Bobby sighed. These boys would be the death of him. Not that he would trade them for anything, of course. They were both so broken right now. And tomorrow they would have to deal with Crowley... and after that with Cas. For now, Bobby would do what he could to heal what he could.

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><p><strong>AN:** It took me literally the entire hellatus to write this – sorry Vanessa! I'm not very happy with it, but want to post it before it becomes totally irrelevant. I'm not sure it says exactly what I wanted to say, but I'm out of time, so I hope it conveyed my thoughts in some small way.


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